Page 4 of Enlightened

“You still don’t think I should have offered him any money,” Murdo observed, seeming amused.

David considered that. “No,” he said at last, relenting. “You were right. I think he’d have taken the offer without the money, but this way you showed yourself to be a fair and generous man—everything that Sir Hamish wasn’t—and I suppose twenty-five pounds isn’t so very much to pay for restoring relations with your nearest neighbour. Not for you anyway.”

Murdo grinned. “You admit I was right, then?”

David rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far. Let’s just say I can understand your reasoning.”

Murdo laughed softly and brushed a kiss over David’s lips. He gave a sigh of contentment, a happy sound that made David’s heart feel full and tender.

“Dr. Logan’s coming up from Perth on Friday,” Murdo murmured. “Make sure you tell him about what happened today.”

David sighed. “It’s not necessary to keep bringing him here every month. Not anymore. I’m nearly fully recovered. In fact—”

“You’re far from fully recovered,” Murdo interrupted. “As you’ve proved very well today.”

“In fact,” David repeated, his light tone belying the heavy dread in his gut, “I’m probably well enough to go home.” After a pause, he added, “To Edinburgh,” as though Murdo might not understand precisely where he meant.

It was a topic that had been brewing for a while now—the last few weeks at least.

Murdo’s lips thinned into a grim line. “Let’s not talk about that now.”

“When, then?”

There was a long silence, then Murdo said, his tone grudging, “After the physician’s been.”

Friday.

David sighed. Perhaps to Murdo it sounded like impatience. In truth, it was pure relief. Relief that this had been put off for another few days.

“All right,” he agreed, resting his head on Murdo’s broad shoulder. “Friday.”

Chapter Two

By Thursday, David’s leg still didn’t feel much better, and it worried him. Had he damaged himself irreparably? Dr. Logan had been pleased with David’s progress on his last visit, and, for the first time, David had allowed himself to hope that he might actually make a full recovery from his accident. The thought that he might have thrown that away, and through his own stupidity, ate at him.

To take his mind off it, he turned to work. Work had always been a refuge for him, and at Laverock House, there was plenty to be done. Over the last few months, bit by bit, Murdo had divulged to David his various and many business interests. He owned a coal mine in South Lanarkshire and a half share of a cotton mill in Sheffield. He had investments in canals and factories. He underwrote insurance arrangements and financed merchant ships. And there were always new opportunities being offered to him. It was well known that his support for a venture would draw more investors. His name was associated with success and security, and it lured others.

David was fascinated by it all—intrigued by the legal arrangements, appalled by the risks, amazed by the rewards. His involvement had begun with no more than mere dinner conversation, when he asked Murdo what kept him holed up in his study for so long. Soon, though, curiosity piqued, he was asking to look over the contracts and proposals Murdo was working on, and then, as he questioned Murdo about the workings of the schemes he was involved in, he found himself making notations, suggesting revisals and innovations. At first, his suggestions were tentative, but when Murdo showed interest in what he was saying and even grew excited by his ideas, David’s confidence grew.

It wasn’t long before Murdo raised the topic of money. When David balked at the idea of a salary, Murdo decided that a commission would be a better form of remuneration in any event. Four percent of returns, he’d decided, unilaterally. That way David could rest assured that his rewards would be commensurate with the success of the venture.

Once that had been sorted, Murdo really began to draw David in, giving David access to all his business correspondence and setting up a second desk in the study of Laverock House. Their working arrangements, which till now had been somewhat loose and sporadic, settled into a steady pattern of several hours most days, though the work was done at all different times of day, depending on what other commitments Murdo had.

Today, Murdo had business to attend to in Perth, so they agreed to spend an hour or two going through Murdo’s bulging correspondence tray first thing, before taking a late, hearty breakfast, which would sustain Murdo till his return.

They started early, at seven, a pot of coffee on the desk between them as they pored over documents and letters in companionable silence.

“What does this say?” Murdo asked David after a while, showing him a scratched notation David had made in the margin of a fairly advanced proposal.

David took the paper he held out and peered at his own handwriting for a moment before the light dawned. “Oh, it says ‘consider trust’. I was thinking that if the proceeds of sale were placed directly in trust, the trustees could be left to deal with ascertaining the dividends and paying them out to the investors. I thought that may alleviate your concerns about the funds being tied up if the Healey brothers start arguing amongst themselves again. The trustees will be able to release your share, and the Healeys can waste their shares on lawyers if they wish.”

Murdo grinned, his left cheek dimpling and his eyes dancing with humour. “A neat solution,” he agreed. “I shouldn’t like to miss out on what promises to be a profitable venture, merely because the two principals argue like cat and dog.”

David couldn’t help but grin back, caught fast by that rare smile. It touched him, oddly, to see Murdo like this. So engaged and interested in what he was doing. When David first met Murdo, he hadn’t seen this side of him. He’d seen only a supercilious aristocrat with a perpetual expression of cool amusement on his face, as though everyone he looked at was slightly below his notice. It had taken a while for the mask to crack, and even now, these moments of unreserved excitement were rare enough that they made David’s heart beat a little quicker.

Murdo got like this about the estate too. His plans for the home farm at Laverock covered a three-year period, with every detail costed to the shilling. And he’d been systematically reviewing his tenants’ properties since last winter, making notes of changes and improvements to be brought about. All this and wooing the neighbours too. Business was the man’s element. He had a gift for it, a nose for profit and a mind like a trap.

On an impulse, David asked, “What does your father think about all this? The moneymaking, I mean.”